Surely

Surely
you do not think of
me as often as I think of you.
Truth is
it’s just too hard to walk away.
Cold turkey loss.
I smoke like a chimney.
Every cigarette
tastes like you.
You don’t invade my sleep
my nights are without dreams
but
I might wish for it
if I didn’t think
I’d wake crying
my addiction bleeding anew.
Music
your voice
blurred and twisted
but strong as fuck
flows over the internet.
Oh my lord.
I recall
your voice
haunting
“I’m not ready
for this sort of thing.”
Well neither was I.
I put a picture
up on the wall
a cigarette
jutting out of your mouth
a smile
roguish (I’ve never had occasion
or the urge
to use that word before
but it’s right
it is)
and it delivers
a little emotive cut
every time I look at it.
Grief has that effect.
Don’t laugh.
Months without
my taking advantage
of my own body’s vulnerability
to me
and the rolling inevitability
of one goodbye
sees nails set to old scars
and despair is made manifest
for the first time
in an eternity of waiting.
Your voice
husky and low
putting that particular touch
to my favorite song.
Only you could do this to me
I laugh at myself
as I sit here crying.
I laugh until I forget
that it started differently.